


Shattered

by MissILikeTooManyFandoms



Series: That Damn Arrow [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Gen, post 2.19, that damn arrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissILikeTooManyFandoms/pseuds/MissILikeTooManyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura considers the arrow that tore her world asunder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> I'm mildly obsessed with bows and arrows and this soooo didn't help and of course we need more angst so here. Kind of a style/narrative experiment. Hope y'all enjoy,

It gleamed, throwing a surprisingly large shadow for something so slight or perhaps that was just her imagination. Perhaps what she knew made it larger than it was. Its jagged tail threatened her, promising pain and anguish even as she sat with a finger near it. It was immaculate, save for its lost tip of course. She thanked it for that. There was no blood to make her ill. No, that was reserved for her own thoughts. The shaft was beautiful in its own way. Bright, glimmering silver but it was lethal. Even she knew that the blades that constructed its fletching, if it could even be called fletching when it was made of pure silver, did little for its purpose. She imagined that it flew with much difficulty, burdened by the weight at its tail. It mocked her.

Her imagination escaped her timid control, spiraling and spiraling along with the once motionless arrow. It was nocked with ease, with a practiced hand. Only a talented archer could down a vampire or a panther with a practically useless arrow. It was drawn back, the nearly invisible bowstring taut. It quivered and then there was stillness in the breath between nocked and released, in the moment it left the calloused, nimble fingers and the string. It flew true, in slow motion and with impossible speed. It arced through trees and past buildings, whizzing by ears and clueless students. It wobbled in the air, the weight of its fletching noticeable but did not keep the arrow from meeting its mark. Cold features broke into pain, a defined jaw dropping, a horrendous sound emitting between dangerous fangs. Brow drawn tight, eyes closed, Carmilla jerked back, her hair water-falling behind her. It was an impossible angle, torso flung back as silver tore through skin and bone and vulnerable muscle, her hips still angled forward, one boot mid-step.

And then she fell.

It was strange. Laura had watched her leap with purpose, an impossible blade in hand but now she saw her fall, an impossible arrow digging through her. It was not irony. She had no words for it. It just hurt and yet it continued, her mind unable to stop.

The arrow met its target but it did not stop. It passed clean through, leaving a broken, bleeding vampire behind while it continued to fly. It crashed through windows and doors and brick walls and Laura saw herself, sitting before the broke shaft, and watched the intact but bloodied arrow, the arrow stained with Carmilla’s blood, arc toward her. It pierced her heart but she did not cry out. The pain had beaten the arrow.

Her heart already hurt.

The silver met only ice and deep, deep cold. She blinked and found the beheaded arrow before her. It no longer seemed so scary. She picked it up carefully, mindful of its point. Mattie had failed to break it cleanly in her haste. She turned the timeless weapon in hand. It threw shadows across the desk and though she could not see them, she could feel the shadows thrown across her face. She ran a fingertips across the sharp fletching, barely flinching as one of the dangerous edges broke skin. Her blood dripped down the arrow, following the shaft to the broken point.

It was not hard to imagine it was not her own, but the vampire’s it had so recently tasted. Suddenly, the illusion of the arrow’s journey shattered, replaced only by the vision of two stumbling sisters, one bleeding and the other shouting. The stain on Carmilla’s chest darkened and spread until it could swallow Laura.

She wondered what it felt like to be shot with an arrow. Was it worse than watching your girlfriend draw in on herself, retreating back into books and a snarky defense? Could sharp, angry, frightened words taste like silver? Was it like hearing “I love you” for the first time, but instead of Cupid’s burning arrows and their pleasant warmth, it was dark and cold, spoken as things were ended before they even began? Had she been shot too? Had she felt the arrow as it passed through the vampire?

She had ached all over the day she died. At first, she thought it was from mere muscle soreness. Fighting the cabal of the undead was exhausting and Laura had not exactly trained for such excitement, but the ache was deeper than flesh. She could feel it in her bones. It hurt everywhere, the knowledge of her death, of her sacrifice for _her_. She had not even told her she cared. Not even in the least and then she had died without knowing, without an apology, without anything but a sword and smile. It was as if she had fallen in the pit with her, consumed by the light. Everything had been burned away. She stared in the mirror for hours wondering why her skin remained pink and mostly blemish free. It should have been black and charred, broken and oozing.

This was different. It was not all encompassing. It did not leave her breathless. She did not want to scream or cry. She felt fine except for the smallest prick of pain in the center of her chest. It was not a searing pain. It was like she had swallowed a piece of ice. Normally, she would have blamed the ice cream she so eagerly ate in big bowls or straight from the container.

She had not eaten ice cream in a week.

The ice was not stationary, however. It was spreading. Dripping, seeping, throughout her body. It ran over her ribcage and down her abdomen, pooling at her belly button. It surged upwards, lining her throat and engulfing the space behind her eyes. She could almost feel it dripping out of her ears.

She turned the arrow again, considering its jagged point. It was almost like a new arrowhead. Her blood still ran down it, vibrant against the silver. She brought it close, its point digging into the fabric of her sweater. She wondered how hard she would have to push. What would it feel like? Would she scream? Did Carmilla scream when it tore through her? When Mattie snapped it? Was the arrowhead digging its way through her body like some burrowing animal? She pressed a little harder, able to feel its pressure threatening against her skin but it did not yet hurt.

“Hey, Laura. She’s asking for you.” The arrow fell back to the desk. She practically threw it. Laura stood and rushed past LaFontaine, barely noticing that they carried some strange board.

It felt like this.


End file.
